


Nightmare

by Scarletfern



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Emotional Trauma, Fainting, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Incomplete, Kidnapping, Nas is kind of a bitch sorry, Nightmares, Sandstorm - Freeform, Whump, cross-post to FFN, if I'm being honest it's really just the team taking care of Patterson, not character death but close I guess, post 2x10, slightly implied Jeller, team as a family, this fic is old and cringey so please keep that in mind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarletfern/pseuds/Scarletfern
Summary: Shepherd's perimeter alarm doesn't go off, allowing the team to approach the cabin undetected. Afterwards, Patterson is left tormented by Borden's deception and her unintentional involvement. As the team desperately tries to care for one of their own, Sandstorm is moved to the back-burner. This proves to be a mistake. Shepherd just isn't someone you can safely turn your back on.Cross-post to FFN





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just made this account, so I'm cross-posting my other fics from my FFN account over to this account. I'm under the same username over there.  
> Also, I wrote most of this last year, so some of it's probably kind of cringey. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters.

_Borden is going to kill me. Borden is going to kill me. He is going to kill me. My boyfriend is going to kill me._ The thoughts barely even registered. It was all too unreal. Darkness was tugging at the corners of her vision. She felt a slight prick in her arm. He was saying something, but his words slurred together, blurring into an incoherent rumble. Never mind, she didn't care anymore. She couldn't feel anything. Not the bleeding gunshot wound, not her punctured eardrum, not her bruised jaw. Nothing but the betrayal.  _It was almost over._  Then, there was a crash, a yell, a gunshot. It all sounded as if it were happening in another world. Then, blacking out, she finally let the darkness take over.

…

 _Patterson has to be in there. She has to be alive._ Jane tried to comfort herself with these shallow thoughts as Weller kicked the door in. Zapata entered ahead of her, gun drawn. Jane followed after her swiftly, finger on the trigger. A gunshot. Zapata gasped as the breath was knocked out of her.  _Thank God we're wearing vests._

"Borden! Stand down!" Kurt yelled.

Borden, however, had no intention of standing down. He fired again but missed. He turned and dashed for the back door. Jane lunged forward, managing to grab the hood of his sweatshirt. She dragged him backwards and forced him to the ground.

"Please, Remi. You don't want to do this."

Completely taken off-guard at being referred to by her real name, she unknowingly loosened her grip on him. He struck out, kicking her leg. She stumbled backward. Weller charged towards the escaping suspect, tackling him. The now recovered Zapata slapped the handcuffs on him.

"Where's Patterson? WHERE IS SHE?!" Weller yelled into the mole's face, after hauling him to his feet.

Borden said nothing, simply glancing past them, into the darkening shadows of the building.

"Zapata, Jane. Go check over there. Be careful." Weller said, not taking his eyes off of the defeated prisoner.

At first, Jane saw nothing. Then, her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Zapata let out a gasp. Jane's jaw dropped.

_Sprawled limply on crude, wooden table, bound with wire, was Patterson. Her blond hair lay tangled and matted. Her blue eyes were closed. Her breath came short and fast. Blood was pooling on the floor, dripping from the table. Her shirt was covered with it. Her face was completely pale, except for an ugly, dark bruise on her jaw. Blood was also trickling out of her ear, staining her hair and neck dark red. An IV was stuck in her arm._

"Patterson!" Zapata screamed.

Jane rushed forward and ripped the IV needle out of Patterson's arm, eyeing it distrustfully. Who knew what kind of poisons they were pumping into her?

As Jane took care of the IV, Zapata had managed to undo the rusty wire that imprisoned their teammate, while frantically trying to rouse her.

"Patterson! Patterson! Wake up!" She said, gently shaking her shoulder.

"What's going on back there?" Weller shouted, a note of worry creeping into his voice.

"Weller! We need a doctor!" Jane replied, splashing freezing cold water on Patterson's face from a dripping sink in the corner of the dank room.

Weller paused uncertainly, and then said "Try to get her out to the car. I'm going to secure the prisoner."

Just then, Patterson stirred and awoke with a gasp. She jerked and her eyes sprang open, slightly unfocused, and so full of pain and fear.

Zapata put her hand on Patterson's shoulder in an attempt to steady her, but Patterson flinched away with a gasp.

"Jane? Tasha?" She stammered, her gaze clearing as she recognized the team.

"Shhh shhh, its okay. We're going to get you to a doctor." Jane comforted her, hoping that she would last that long.

"We've got to get out of here." Zapata said, helping Patterson get into a sitting position. Patterson winced, clutching the bloody gunshot wound, her face twisted in a mask of pain. Jane and Zapata got on either side of her and linked their arms around her waist. Patterson gritted her teeth and draped her arms around their necks.

"Ready?" Patterson closed her eyes tightly and nodded. On the count of three, they scooped her up off the table and started for the door, trying to ignore her sharp intakes of breath and weak whimpers of agony.

By the time they got to the SUV, they were practically dragging her. Borden was secured in the front seat, handcuffed to both the armrest and the door. Weller wasn't taking any chances. Once he got a look at Patterson, he reached under the front seat and pulled out a first aid kit, instructing them to stop the bleeding on the way.

He held open the door to the backseat while Jane climbed in and turned to pull Patterson in after her. Weller slammed the door and got in the driver's seat, shooting Borden a murderous glare as Zapata ran around and jumped in on the other side.

Patterson's head lolled limply against the headrest as Jane opened the first aid kit and pulled out all of the gauze. She gingerly lifted up the edge of Patterson's blood-soaked shirt and pressed the gauze firmly against the gunshot wound, ignoring Patterson's weak wail of pain to the best of her ability. The bleeding must be stopped. After a few minutes, she put some medical tape over it and pulled the seatbelt around her. She knew that it couldn't be good for Patterson's wound, but with the way that Weller was driving, it was definitely necessary.

Jane glanced over at Zapata, who was staring at Patterson with an expression that seemed to indicate that she was about to cry, or throw up, or both. She also noticed that Weller kept looking back into the rear-view mirror, but he wasn't checking on the road. He was checking on Patterson.

None of this came as a shock, but when she caught Borden glancing back, she took a double take. Then, he looked her straight in the eye and spoke.

"None of you will get away with this."

Jane just stared at him as he made the absurd comment, but Zapata was definitely not at a loss for words.

" _We_  won't get away with this?  _We?_  What exactly have  _we_  done? Look at what  _you_ did. If I had  _my_ say, this mess would be settled with a bullet. You will burn for this."

Borden chuckled, shaking his head

"Go to Hell, Borden." Zapata snapped.

They rode in silence the rest of the way.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot, or any of these characters.

_Patterson flinched as Shepherd slammed her palms down on the surface of the table in frustration._

_"Just_ **_tell_ ** _me what the FBI knows about Phase Two!" she hissed, her teeth clenched._

_"Everything. We know_ **_everything_ ** _." She heard herself saying. I won't betray the team. They can torture me, kill me even, but I will never betray my team. She thought, setting her jaw and waiting. Waiting for the inevitable._

_Shepherd exhaled sharply, and then shook her head sadly. But not remorsefully. She didn't seem human. She seemed more like a robot. Inhumane, Patterson thought._

_The terrorist leader eyed her coldly, and then turned abruptly to Borden. "This is getting us nowhere. Kill her. Then, come meet me in the bunker. We have important matters to discuss." Shepherd spun on her heel and strode briskly away._

…

Patterson jolted awake, her senses raw with shock, as the sudden daylight sharply contrasted with the dim atmosphere of her nightmare.

 _Where am I?_  She thought to herself, and then it all came back to her as the red hot flames of pain stabbed throughout her body, radiating out from the gunshot wound, pulsing with her heartbeat.

She cried out in pain and jerked back against the black leather seat. She glanced up. Her gaze met his for a split second. She took a double take. Their eyes locked. And then she crumpled back into the seat, unconscious again.

…

When they arrived at the ER, the medical personal swarmed the SUV, lifting Patterson out and onto a gurney. One doctor snapped an oxygen mask over her blood-streaked face, while another made sure that she was securely strapped in. Then, they whisked her away through the automatic doors, speaking frantically to one another.

They all watched in silence as their teammate was swiftly taken away by the doctors, tears glistening in their eyes. A few minutes dragged by, and then Zapata turned her gaze to Borden. He returned her stare, his eyes blank. She started to speak, but choked on her tears, unable to complete her sentence.

"Tasha," Kurt stated after a few moments "We need to take the prisoner to interrogation. Will you stay here and call us as soon as you have information?"

She nodded and shakily got out of the car. "I'll text Reade when I get inside, so he knows what's going on."

Kurt nodded, started the car, and said "We'll be back as soon as we can."

…

Kurt tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his mouth set in a grimace. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to turn the car around and go back to his teammate. But no, he and Jane had to go back to the NYO with the traitor and organize an interrogation.

He looked over at Borden.  _Borden. That's probably not even his real name. How could I have been so blind! Why didn't I see it? This could have been prevented. If only I had opened my eyes before. Then Patterson would be in her lab, where she belongs, not in a hospital room, fighting for her life!_

He pressed his foot to the accelerator. The sooner the mole explained himself, the better.

…

Zapata walked briskly up the sidewalk, pushing her way through the swinging doors and entering the emergency room. Once inside, she went through the metal detectors and then found herself in a brightly lit waiting room. Her gaze flitted around until she found what she was looking for.

She purposefully strode up to the reception desk, and waited, tapping her foot impatiently. After several seemingly endless minutes, the secretary, who was all smiles, peered up at her, and then adjusted her glasses.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"I want to know the condition of the FBI agent that was just brought in." Zapata stated bluntly, deciding to just come out with it.

She frowned. "Unfortunately, we aren't allowed to give out the personal information of our patients to civilians."

Zapata slammed her badge down on the counter and growled through gritted teeth "Tell. Me. Her. Condition. Now."

The receptionist stepped back, looking flustered. "Ma'am, if you'll just calm down…Well, it's a little unorthodox…But I could get  _fired…._ "

Zapata glowered at her murderously.

"Or I'll just… Name?"

"Patterson Leung."

The receptionist adjusted her glasses yet again, peered at the computer screen, and then typed a few words in. Zapata was growing impatient. She sighed. "Can you move any slower? It was less than ten minutes ago!"

For this comment, the gray-haired receptionist shot her a reproachful look, pursed her lips, and then said "Miss Leung is in critical condition. When she gets out of surgery, you will be able to find her in the Intensive Care Unit. But with your unfortunate attitude, I highly doubt that you will be permitted to see her."

Zapata returned her glare, and then retreated to the waiting area. She dropped into a seat facing away from the reception desk, but she could still feel the old woman's eyes burning into her back. She sighed and shifted uncomfortably in the stiff chair, irritably wondering why hospitals seemed to try to supply their waiting rooms with the most uncomfortable furniture on the planet.

She fished her phone out of her pocket and sent a quick text to Reade, Weller, and Jane that read ' _Patterson in surgery, critical condition'._ Reade texted her back immediately, asking ' _what happened? Is she ok?'_

' _Borden shot her, Shepherd tortured her'._

' _What?!'_

_'Long story'_

She slipped her phone back in her pocket, realizing that Reade was probably extremely confused, but she did  _not_  feel like explaining it. Slumping in the chair, she fixed her gaze on the swinging doors leading to the ICU.

_Please be okay, Patterson. We need you._

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters

_ Patterson is standing in a musty building, surrounded by packed bookcases. The library. She walks down the aisle, running her fingers over the dusty leather bindings. The reference section? She stops at the end of the aisle in shock. _

_ Sitting at one of the research tables is David. Sitting beside him is a laughing, happy, care-free version of herself. On the table in front of them is the reference book that is currently in the evidence room at the FBI. The book that marked the starting point of all her problems. The book that killed David. Well, maybe the book didn't kill him, but it was the reason that the Russian spy had killed him. _

_ The current version of Patterson, the one standing in the shadows of the bookcases, watches in silence, frozen, as the dream version of herself leans over and kisses David. She knows that this is the part where Mayfair catches them. But Mayfair isn't the woman that she sees marching over to the dream Patterson and David . The woman that she sees marching over to that table is Shepherd. And Shepherd is carrying a gun that looks suspiciously like Patterson's side arm. _

_ Patterson is frozen in place. Her feet won't move. She tries to scream, but no sound comes out. She stands, helpless, watching the scene unfold. Shepherd has reached the table. Dream Patterson and David have not noticed her. They are in a world of their own, a world where you can trust your co-workers not to be crazy terrorists. _

_ From there, things happen in slow motion. Shepherd brings the gun forward. She aims, then fires. David falls to the floor with a thud, blood pouring from the gaping hole in his forehead. Shepherd turns to dream version Patterson. The gun goes off a second time. Dream Patterson crumples to the floor, landing beside David in a pool of blood. _

_ Shepherd turns around and looks the current Patterson straight in the eye. She slowly pulls Patterson's gun up and aims for her head. Her finger slides onto the trigger, pulling the hammer back. A gunshot. Then, she feels herself falling... _

...

Patterson awakens with a strangled scream, bolting upright, her heart pounding and her body trembling.

_ It was just a nightmare,  _ she tells herself, running her hand gently over the bandages that cover her throbbing gunshot wound.  _But that wasn't. That was a living Hell._

She sighs, then immediately wishes that she hadn't. Her jaw is killing her.

She jumps when her phone buzzes. She hadn't noticed it lying on the table beside the hospital bed. She reaches out to pick it up, and then stops, wincing at the flash of pain that stabs across her abdomen. But the pain isn't the reason that she froze.

_ The last place I had my phone was Borden's apartment.  _ She thinks, her eyes quickly scanning the room. Nothing.  _Maybe I'm just paranoid?_

Then her eyes fall on her laptop, also sitting on the table. A bag is lying on the floor that appears to contain her clothes.  _How did that get here? Oh...the team must have brought it. That makes sense...they would have found my phone when they came to look for me..._

Her phone buzzed again insistently.  _Oh, right. My phone._

She tentatively reached out and picked it up. She gasped.  _Why does this hurt so much? I thought they gave me painkillers._

She gritted her teeth and looked at the glowing screen of her phone.  _Oh, great. Mom, nine missed calls._

The phone buzzes again. She quickly slides her thumb across the screen and steels herself for a long, painful conversation.

"Hi, mom." She says, trying to force a fake note of cheerfulness into her voice.

Her mother isn't the least bit fooled. "Patterson, would you please explain to me why the assistant director of the FBI is calling to inform me that my daughter has been shot?"

Patterson cringes. "Because I got shot."

"Are you all right? What happened? Was it something that had to do with your work?"

Patterson involuntarily winced. She had a splitting headache from the painkillers, which weren't working. And her mother was loud. Very loud. Which was partially because she had the volume turned up really loud on her phone so that she could hear over the throbbing white noise that was currently buzzing in her left ear. But still.

"I'm fine, mom. And no, it wasn't completely work-related. I mean, it kind of was and kind of wasn't."

"That makes no sense. It either was or wasn't."

"Fine. It was work-related."  _Oh boy. Here it comes._

"I knew it. I knew you should have never taken that job. I  _told_ you that it was too dangerous and that nothing good would come from it. And you wouldn't listen. First, it got poor David killed, and now it's nearly gotten you killed. I'm coming up there first thing tomorrow. You are quitting that dreadful profession and moving back home immediately!"

"What? No! I'm not quitting my job and I'm not moving and I don't need you to come up here! And my job didn't kill David. That was my fault and mine alone." She says, her voice breaking on the last words.

Her mother pauses, seemingly uncertain at how to respond to the raw grief in her daughter's voice. No such luck. "I would appreciate it if you would just  _consider_  getting a new job. Something a little  _safer_. Just look at all the pain it's caused you!"

"Mom! I love my job! I'm not quitting!"

Her mother sighs in consent. "Fine. But are you sure that you'll be alright? Is Robert there? Perhaps you should let me talk to him. I need to find out if you're  _really_ alright."

Patterson cringes. "No! Trust me, you do  _not_  need to talk to him!"

"Why not? Did you two break up? He really should be notified anyway. Give me his number. I'll talk to him. Who knows? He might even take you back."

"Uhhh, mom? He knows I got shot. And I don't think he really cares."

"What? Of  _course_  he would care! Maybe you just misunderstood him!"

"No, mom. We understood each other perfectly. He's the one that shot me."

" _What?!_ That settles it. I am coming up there. You are not fine! You need-"

"No, please. I'll be okay. Look, I have to go. The doctor just came in. No. Stay at home. Don't waste your time because I'm not coming home."

She hangs up, hearing her mother, still protesting on the other end. She feels a small prickle of guilt for lying, but pushes it away, along with her thoughts about Borden.  _It won't be a lie for long,_  she tells herself.  _Hopefully, someone will come in soon. I need some better painkillers._

She glances at the time on her phone before turning it off.  _7:37 am. I guess I'm on my own for a little while..._

For a long time, she tries to fight sleep and the nightmares that she knows will come with it, but in the end, she's just too weak to do anything else.

...

Kurt Weller had woken up early with a bad mood and a splitting headache.  _Why had that scotch seemed like such a good idea last night?_

He sat alone at his kitchen table massaging his temples, trying in vain to make his headache go away. Eventually, he stopped trying and got up to make the coffee, running through the details of everything that had happened since they took Patterson to the hospital.

…

_ He and Jane had taken Borden to interrogation. After hooking him up to a polygraph, they began to question him. It had taken them three grueling hours to acquire one piece of information, that wasn't really information; it was more of a threat and wasn't helpful in the least. And it was the only thing he would say. "You will regret this." _

_ He had repeated this threat exactly three times, with such a clear, cold certainty that Weller had begun to feel unnerved. Certainly there was no way for him to escape. Or was there? _

_ Then, realizing that this was probably some type of twisted strategy on Borden's part, he ended the interrogation that he had never really been focused on in the first place. _

_ He and Jane had taken the traitorous prisoner to a cell in holding, but only after Weller personally checked it over to make sure that he had no means of escaping. Then, after Jane checked on her brother, they stuck out to avoid Nas and the mountain of paperwork waiting on his desk. The minute they got in his car, he had called Zapata for information on Patterson. But she didn't know anything. _

_ "The receptionist ignores me every time I ask about her." she had explained. _

_ "Why?" _

_ "Because I pissed her off." _

_ Weller had sighed in frustration, and then had said "Fine. We'll be there soon." _

_ When he and Jane finally got through security, they were directed to a small waiting area. It didn't take long to find Zapata, whose face was a mixture of worry and anger as she stared down an old lady seated at the front desk, who returned the stare with a fierce glare. _

_ Weller had wasted no time walking up to the front desk, introducing himself as the assistant director of the FBI, showing his credentials, and apologizing for his unruly agent. Then, he asked to speak with the doctor in charge of treating Patterson, explaining (not entirely truthfully) that her condition was vital to an ongoing investigation. Finally, the receptionist supplied that she would be able to get the doctor in around twenty minutes. _

_ Twenty minutes later, as promised, Dr. Martin came out to speak with them. They were all relieved when they were told the news: Patterson was in bad shape, but she was going to be fine. _

_ But when they had asked for specific details, they had been frozen out and no amount of arguing would help. The reason? They weren't her "family". That hospital needed to adjust their definition of the word "family". _

…

Weller arrived at the hospital around 9am. He knew that at some point in the day he would have to go back in to the office, but first he needed to see with his own eyes that Patterson was alright. And he wasn't the least bit surprised to see Jane and Zapata already in the waiting room when he got there. In fact, if he hadn't driven Jane home himself, he knew that it was very likely that she would have stayed in the waiting room all night. That was clearly what Zapata had done. He couldn't really blame her though. The last time they had all seen Patterson, she was barely breathing and covered in blood. A doctor telling them that she would be fine didn't erase that image from their minds.

Joining them, he asked "When will they let us see her?"

Zapata replied "Visiting hours start at 11am."

After that, there was nothing else to say. All of them knew why the others weren't at work. All of them knew that they could get in serious trouble over it. All of them realized that, if they were caught, they could get fired. None of them cared.

But someone else did. And she started calling Weller's phone at exactly 9:27am.

"Nas." He said with a groan, checking his caller ID.

"You going to answer that?" Zapata asked.

"Nah." He replied, shoving his phone back into his pocket after eyeing it in annoyance.

Jane looked at him, smirking a little. "You do realize that she's just going to keep calling you, and when you don't answer, she'll probably try tracking your phone?"

Weller nodded, laughing, and then said "That doesn't mean we have to make it easy for her," as he pulled the battery out of his phone.

That lasted for about forty-five minutes.

At 10:17am, an extremely angry Nas Kamal came marching purposefully into the waiting room.

"What are you doing? Have you forgotten that we still need to stop Sandstorm?" She demanded, staring at the three of them, completely annoyed.

"No, Nas. We haven't forgotten. But, right now, we need to be here for Patterson. And we can't stop Sandstorm without her. We have to make sure that she's okay."

"That isn't your job.  _Your_  job is to stop Sandstorm. The doctors can take care of Patterson. I'll find someone else to take over her job. But you need to get back to work."

Weller seethed with anger. First, this woman had shown up out of nowhere, telling him how to do his job. And he had let her. That had been one thing. But this? To try and make him abandon a key member of his team, of his family, who was going through Hell? That was unforgivable. It was a good thing that Zapata answered for him, because he couldn't trust himself to say anything.

"You expect us to abandon her  _now?_  After everything she's been through? I think I speak for all of us when I say this. We are  _staying_. Do whatever you want, but just know that you're doing it alone today."

Nas looked in disbelief from Zapata to Weller to Jane. They all wore the same stubborn expression. Then, she pulled an evidence bag out of her pocket, flung it at Weller, and snapped "This is my informant's phone. Get Patterson to unlock it."

Then, she left in a huff, the FBI agents staring after her in shock.

Weller just shakes his head. He can't believe that he had actually found that cold, manipulative woman attractive a few days ago. Stupid.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters

The first time Weller goes in Patterson's room to visit her, she's asleep. He doesn't wake her – she needs to rest, but her appearance shocks him. Of course, she had looked worse the day before when she was bleeding out in the backseat of his car, but still…

She's bruised and battered; her face is pale and drawn. She is breathing softly, her right hand resting lightly over the gunshot wound. Her heart monitor beeps consistently. She looks so… fragile. He has never thought of Patterson as a fragile person, exactly the opposite, actually, but fragile definitely seems to describe her present state.

He looks around until he finds her chart. He picks it up, wondering what the extents of her injuries are. She was, according to the chart, being treated for a gunshot wound to the abdomen causing abdominal bruising and abdominal injuries, excessive blood loss, a perforated eardrum due to multiple ruptures, severe shock, and contusion to the jaw due to blunt force trauma. As he scanned the list, he felt a sudden urge to go and punch something, no  _someone_ extremely hard. He tensed, grimacing, as he thought back to the smug look on Borden's face as he was led into his cell after the failed interrogation.

Poor Patterson. He knew that she was going to take this hard. She had always seemed to have a knack for blaming herself when things went sideways. At least she was alive. And she would have the entire team behind her, supporting her. Minus Nas, of course, but that was expected.

He sighed and sat down in the chair beside the bed, watching her face intently, waiting for her to wake up. But she doesn't. She just lets out a pained whimper in her sleep. In response he gently picks up her hand, careful not to disturb the IV, and holds it, wishing that he could somehow take the pain instead of her.

Just then, a nurse walks in holding a chart identical to the one that he had been studying before. He looks up at her as she makes her way over to Patterson's bedside, jotting down quick notes as she checks her vitals. When she finishes, Kurt stands and clears his throat. She looks over at him expectantly.

"Yes?"

"How is she?"

The nurse glances hesitantly at Patterson, then at the chart. "Well, her surgery went well. They were able to extract all of the bullet fragments, her jaw does not appear to have suffered any fractures, and her eardrum should heal on its own. But…."

"But what?" He demands, glaring at her when she hesitates further.

"Well, she didn't exactly have a restful night. Every time that she went to sleep, she woke up screaming from the nightmares. Eventually, we had to give her a light sedative so that she could go to sleep. It should wear off in a little while, though."

She leaves the room and he sits back down beside Patterson, hoping that the nightmares that plague her sleep are finished preying on her.

** … **

The first time Zapata sees her, she can't stop thinking about the state they had found Borden's apartment in when they had gone searching for her, not knowing whether she was dead or alive.  _What_  they had found.

The entire place had been in disarray. Overturned furniture. A broken mirror. Bullet casings. Patterson's side arm. Her phone. And blood. So much blood. But they hadn't found her. Just evidence that had indicated that she was either dead, or badly injured. So it would have been an understatement to say that she was relieved when she saw Patterson sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed, her breathing steady and her heart monitor beeping consistently.

She stumbles over to the visitor's chair that Weller had vacated only moments before and collapses, finally allowing the stress of everything that had happened the past two days to crash over her, to consume her. _We were betrayed. We were led into a trap._   _Patterson almost died. Reade almost died. Jane almost died. Hell, I almost died. Others_ ** _did_** _die._ And, with that, her tears, which were usually kept carefully reined in with the rest of her emotions, no matter how heavy they weighed on her, finally broke through. And she let them fall.

**... **

The first time that Jane goes to see her, she steps hesitantly into the room where her teammate lies in a drug-induced sleep, injured and helpless. She sits down in the chair, her eyes never leaving Patterson's sleeping form. Suddenly, feeling awkward, she wonders  _what do I say to her if she wakes up?_

Just then, Patterson stirs. Her eyes blink open and she looks around blearily. Her gaze seems to clear when she notices Jane.

"How are you feeling?" Jane asks, awkwardness immediately replaced with concern for her teammate.

"Fine." She murmurs, clearly trying to keep the pain out of her voice but failing miserably.

If anything, that one word made Jane's concern grow, because Patterson was clearly not alright. She could tell. Besides, she was the one that was usually insisting that she was fine when she was anything but fine, so she had some experience. But before she could say anything, Patterson had scrambled up with a whence, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Is everyone else alright? Weller? Tasha? Reade? Nas?"

"Everyone is fine," Jane soothed her. "Reade had to have surgery, but he's home now. Weller and Zapata are in the waiting room. Nas is…" She hesitates, not wanting to tell Patterson about how cold and insensitive the NSA agent had been to her condition, finally opting to simply say "Nas is fine, too."

Patterson visibly relaxed, slumping back against the pillow, pain flickering through her eyes at the sudden movement. Jane gives her a moment to recover before gently asking her "Patterson, what happened?"

The young woman closed her eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze with glistening blue eyes. "After everything happened, I started trying to get in touch with Borden. He wasn't answering his phone, so I got worried and went to his apartment to check on him. The door was unlocked, so I went in. He was there. Said his phone had been acting up. That was when I noticed the ring. It was the same ring that you described, Jane. The woman you remembered was his late wife. Anyway, I confronted him and told him he was under arrest. That's when he ran. I fired a couple of rounds, but… I couldn't do it. Kill him, I mean. He snuck up behind me and we fought. He shot me and I backed away from him before I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was on lying on a table. There was and IV in my arm. Borden was standing at a sink with his back to me. I pulled the IV out of my arm and tried to sneak up on him, strangle him, I guess. But then someone pushed a gun into the back of my neck. It was Shepherd. She and Borden started arguing over what to do with me. Shepherd said that she was going to extract information from me. Borden tied me to the table. Shepherd started asking me stuff. Like what we knew about Phase Two. When I didn't talk, she started pushing this huge needle into my ear. I lost count of how many times she did it. Eventually, some people came in. Said they had to talk to her. She said she was…  _busy_. They said "Mitch is dead. We lost Roman." So, she went with them. When she came back, she kept going with the needle. Kept trying to make me talk. I didn't. She hit me in the jaw with a metal pipe. I lost consciousness. When I came to again, she and Borden were talking. She wanted to kill me. He  _begged_ her to let him do it. She left. He started talking. I don't know what he said. I was… out of it. I remember hearing a crash, yelling, gunshots. I lost consciousness again. Then you found me." She breaks off with a sob and Jane lays a comforting hand on her shoulder while she cries.

After several minutes, she takes a few shuttering breaths and asks quietly "Is he in custody?"

"Yes. We interrogated him yesterday, but he won't talk."

Patterson takes this in, nods, and then starts to reach for her laptop. Jane silently hands it to her, noting the way she gasps at every slight movement.

"Aren't you on painkillers?"

"Yeah. I don't think they're working. But I'm  _fine!_ " she insists when Jane starts to open her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Jane asks a few minutes later.

"Hang on… okay. His name's not Robert Borden. It's Nigel Thornton." She says, turning the laptop so that Jane can see.

"How…?" Jane asks incredulously, shaking her head in wonder before turning to stare at Patterson.

"You need to rest."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters

Shepherd sat alone in the bunker, drumming her fingers impatiently on the desktop, waiting for Parker to arrive.  _He's late. Again._ She thought to herself in annoyance.  _Nigel may have allowed himself to be caught, but at least he could follow simple orders. This only makes it all too clear that we'll have to go to extra measures to extract him from FBI custody. If the others are to respect my authority, then those at the top of the chain of command must be capable of properly representing me. And Nigel became my second in command after the incident with Remy and Roman, so….Without Nigel, Parker is my second in command._ She shudders at the thought.  _Parker is completely useless. No wonder the CIA wouldn't take him. Come to think of it, why did I keep him around after he failed at that mission?_

She breaks out of her thoughts as Parker's footsteps sound in the hall outside her door, echoing throughout the confined space.

"Parker," she greets him coldly, "We had an appointment.  _One hour ago._ " She practically spits the last words out.

"Something came up. I had to deal with it. What did you need to discuss?"

She glares at him heatedly. "If you want to have a part in the decision making next time, then I suggest showing up when I tell you to."

"What do you mean, next time? I'm here now, aren't I?"

"I've already made my decision. We will be retrieving Thornton from FBI custody."

Parker stares at her for a moment, seemingly baffled. "You're going to put the whole mission at risk for one soldier? That's…that's…..that's insane! We can't afford that kind of setback!"

"We couldn't afford him getting caught, either, but it happened. And now we will deal with it. Speaking of setbacks, next time I tell you I want a word, I expect for you to report promptly. Now, for the emergency procedures. Activate the bug. I want to know when Agent Patterson is expected back at the FBI. We will take appropriate measures soon after. No arguing. Now, get out of my sight.

Parker stares at in shock for a split second, before obediently lowering his gaze and retreating to the hallway. Shepherd watches him go, her eyes burning with a cold fire.  _He had better do as he's told. I'll have to deal with him soon, I know that for certain, but he may prove…useful in the next few days._

**…**

A couple of days later, Weller gets a text from Patterson. He had asked her to contact him when she found out what time she was being discharged, and she had grudgingly agreed.

_I can leave around 12:30_

_Ok I'm on the way_

_U don't have 2, I can get a cab_

_I'm coming, stop arguing_

**…**

He's coming out of the locker room, still pulling his coat on, when Nas cuts him off.

"I've arranged a debrief on the Sandstorm Operation with Director Pellington, so wherever you're going, it will have to wait."

Kurt feels a flash of annoyance. "Nas," he explains calmly through gritted teeth, "reschedule the meeting. There's something I have to take care of."

"You have five minutes. The Director is waiting." She responds coldly, before marching purposefully away.

He feels a flash of rage and groans inwardly. Five minutes? Maybe…

"Jane," he says, relieved when he spots her stepping out of the elevator, "Could you go get Patterson?

"Of course." She says as he tosses her his keys to the SUV.

"Alright, go pick her up at the hospital, take her to the pharmacy to get her medicine, and then take her home. Make sure she's okay before you leave her. I'll cover for you here, with Nas and Pellington."

**…**

When Jane arrives at the hospital, she pulls the car around in the parking lot, and, seeing Patterson waiting nearby, unlocks the doors.

Patterson walks over, opens the door and gets in. As she fumbles with the seatbelt, Jane glances over at her and is relieved to note that she is no longer wincing with every slight movement and that the bruise on her jaw is somewhat faded. She does feel a stab of concern though, when she notices the dark circles under her eyes and how completely exhausted she seems.

"Hi, Patterson. You feeling any better?"

"Yes." She nods tightly, not looking like she really means it. "Thanks for coming to get me."

Jane studies her carefully, again seeing how tired she looks, and noticing a haunted look in her eyes, the look of hunted prey.

It reminds her of how she feels after a particularly bad nightmare.

"Patterson," she says gently, "have you been getting enough sleep?"

Patterson looks away.

"More nightmares?"

She hesitates, then nods, staring straight ahead.

"Bad?"

"Yes." Patterson replies quietly her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

Jane lays a comforting hand on her shoulder for a moment, before pulling out of the parking lot. A few moments later, she asks "So, where are we going? Do you need to go to the pharmacy to get your prescriptions filled?"

"Yes." Patterson says, before adding a quiet "Thank you, Jane."

**…**

They arrive at the parking garage for the pharmacy without event. Patterson carefully eases out of the SUV, looking slightly panicked. Jane notices how she tenses as her gaze flits warily around the poorly lit parking garage, focusing on the shadowed corners in between the parked vehicles. She positions herself protectively at Patterson's side, aware that they're both probably overreacting, but still realizing that neither one of them can afford to let their guard down.

Once inside, she watches as Patterson tiredly fumbles her way through the necessary paperwork with considerable difficulty. By the time they get back to the SUV, she seems to be asleep on her feet and is barely able to drag herself back into the passenger's seat before going completely limp.

"You should try to get some sleep on the drive back to your apartment." She suggests before adding "You're safe here."

After that, Patterson only struggles to stay awake for a few minutes before her eyes slam shut, her head leaning heavily against the seatbelt. She appears to be sleeping peacefully, so Jane continues to drive until she hits one of the massive traffic jams that New York City is famous for.

She glances over at Patterson, who has started muttering in her sleep. Jane, realizing that she is probably having a nightmare, gently whispers "Patterson, it's okay."

She's feeling slightly torn between not wanting to wake her when she clearly needs to rest and realizing the horrors that she could be reliving in her sleep when Patterson starts whimpering and jerks slightly to the left. Jane gently tries to shake her awake, but she flinches away with another whimper.

"Patterson," Jane says comfortingly "you can't keep pretending that you're okay. Talk to me."

Just then, her phone buzzes and she glances at the screen. Seeing an unopened text message from Weller, she decides to ignore it. She turns her attention back to Patterson, but, since it appears that she has already drifted back to sleep, opts to check the text.

_You two alright?_

_Traffic jam_

_How long?_

_Probably a few hours_

_Patterson?_

_Asleep, still having nightmares_

_Make sure she's ok before you leave her. I told Roman where you went, don't worry he's fine_

_Thanks_  she replies, feeling a flash of guilt. She had almost forgotten that she had been on her way to check on him before coming to get Patterson.

Traffic continues to crawl forward for the next couple of hours with Patterson slipping in and out of a restless sleep. Finally, after what seems like days, they arrive at Patterson's apartment complex.

And, if it was possible, despite the little sleep that she  _had_  gotten, Patterson looked even more exhausted than before.

**…**

When they arrive at her apartment, Patterson is so sleepy and her eyelids are so heavy that moving feels tedious. The minute that her feet touch the ground her knees buckle and she would have almost certainly collapsed if Jane hadn't dashed forward and caught her, gently wrapping an arm around her, supporting her weight, and firmly guiding her up to her apartment.

Once there, she unsuccessfully attempts to unlock the door because of how shaky she is from lack of sleep. Trembling, she leans heavily against the doorframe and lets Jane gingerly pull the key from her hand and easily fit it into the lock, the whole time hating how helpless she feels. The door opens and Jane guides her gently over to the couch, where she collapses into an exhausted heap. She feels a sharp twinge of pain in her gut and whimpers, letting the exhaustion sweep over her in waves.

Jane comes over to her and says something, but she can't really tell what; she's too tired to listen. She only just catches the last part.

"….so will you be okay on your own for a little bit?"

Hearing this sends her into a wave of panic. She's not sure exactly why though. In the back of her mind she knows that she is perfectly safe, but she doesn't  _feel_  that way. She just feels….scared. Alone. Hurt. Betrayed. And she doesn't want to be alone, not here. Not yet.

"Please don't leave me here alone." She begs. Her voice shakes with exhaustion.

"Patterson, I promise you, I'm not leaving. I'll only be gone for a minute, I just need to go out to the car to get you your medication. I'll be right back. Just rest, okay?

Patterson nods, and even though Jane takes the keys and locks the door, her eyes, still dark with fear, quickly rove around the interior of her apartment. She is shocked by how normal it looks, like nothing any different than usual had happened in the last few days. But something  _had_  happened and….she doesn't know how much longer she can delude herself from reality, force herself to believe that everything is okay when it clearly isn't. Or maybe that time had already come and gone. She's not sure how to organize her thoughts anymore. She's tired and her mind feels scrambled. She can't think straight.

The air conditioner kicks in, which startles her. Then, with a shiver, she realizes that, had she been home for the last week, she would have long since had the heat running. But now she's so tired and unsteady that she doesn't think that even if she  _could_  manage to get up that she would actually be able to make to the thermostat. Shaking, she instead pulls a fleecy gray blanket from the back of the couch and wraps up in it. Just doing that is a struggle, though; she feels as if she is made of lead.

Still shivering, she pulls the blanket tighter as she struggles to stay awake, not wanting to succumb to the nightmares, but not really having a choice, she soon finds herself slipping into the darkness….

**…**

_It's dark, so dark. Something warm and sticky covers her. She can smell the metallic scent of blood. The voices of Shepherd and Borden echo around her._

_"I know a lot about you, Agent Patterson."_

_"You will tell us everything."_

_"Fine needle aspiration biopsies."_

_"You know how I extract information."_

_"Do you think you can type with nine fingers?"_

_"Why else do you think I brought her here?"_

_"Shepherd, let me kill her. Please."_

**…**

When Jane walked back into the apartment, Patterson was curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her, asleep, her eyes closed tightly, whimpering, half mumbling, half sobbing "no….please, don't…."

Jane moves carefully over to her. "Patterson, it's just a dream. Wake up." She says gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. Patterson jerks awake, nearly tumbling off the couch. Jane catches her at the last minute and pulls her back just before she crashes into the coffee table, then pauses to catch her breath while Patterson huddles beneath the blanket, silent and trembling, her eyes stretched wide with fear and dismay.

"Everything will be fine, you'll see." She assured Patterson.

Neither of them was aware of the other person listening closely to their conversation.

**…**

_"Everything will be fine, you'll see."_

Shepherd's lips stretched into a grotesque smirk as she listened to Remy's words.

_Everything_ **_will_ ** _be fine, just not in the way you think, my dear daughter._

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters

" _What is Phase Two?"_

_"What is Shepherd's Endgame?"_

_"What are they planning?"_

Nigel Thornton sat in silence as Agents Weller and Zapata took turns drilling him with question after question. He remained unresponsive as they painstakingly laid out every single charge against him.

"…. _treason…."_

_"….espionage…."_

_"….terrorism…."_

Weller continued reading. Charge after charge after charge. Unfortunately for them, he wasn't really paying them any attention. And, in all honesty, he couldn't really care less. He would never talk. And besides, Shepherd would have to take some sort of action soon. She couldn't leave someone like him in FBI custody for long, not with the Intel that he possessed.

He turned his attention back to Agent Weller, who was still reading out the charges against him.

" _….armed assault against a Federal Agent…."_

_"….resisting arrest…."_

_"….attempted murder…."_

_**Attempted** _ _murder? So, Agent Patterson is alive. Now_ **_that's_ ** _something Shepherd may be able to use._

"...So it would be in your best interests to cooperate with us." Agent Weller had apparently just completed his pathetic little speech posing as an interrogation.

Nigel just smirked at him. "I'll never talk."

**…**

**One day later….**

Jane and Weller had found her sobbing in her kitchen, she knew that much. But after that, the details were a little hazy.

She had wound up blacking out and woken up sprawled on the floor with Jane kneeling beside her, checking her pulse. Weller was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, snapping at someone on the other end of his cell phone.

"…I don't know. She just passed out….uh huh, uh huh…no, that won't be necessary…She's awake now…Yeah, we'll be right there…okay."

He hung up and looked down at her with a worried expression on his face. "That was the hospital. They want us to bring you back in so they can run some tests. Can you get up?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She lied, rubbing her aching shoulder.

Jane and Weller exchanged a look that clearly showed that neither of them believed her. She reached up and grabbed hold of the countertop, pulling herself to her feet. She leaned heavily into it, her vision going dark and fuzzy as a wave of dizziness washed over her. A minute passed. She felt Jane's and Weller's eyes on her, so she straightened and took a step towards the door. The room spun around her and her knees gave way. Jane and Weller caught her by her arms and gently lowered her to the floor and she gratefully sank back against the cabinets.

A sudden, blinding flash came over her and she felt nothing for one, blissful moment, before the pain exploded in her left temple, pulsing through her head. Numbness spread through her body and she felt slightly nauseas.

"Patterson? What's wrong?" Weller asked her, his words, though sounding far away, made her feel like her skull was shattering into a million pieces.

"Migraine." She managed to choke out, barely able to speak. She had been getting them for the past couple of days, on and off, but this was the worst one yet.

"Can you at least stand?"

"No." She gasped. "Just leave me here, it'll pass."

"Jane, go unlock the car." He said softly and knelt down beside her as she held her forehead in her hands. Before she knew what was going on, he had picked her up with slight difficulty and started for the door. She went limp, nearly blacking out again from the pain. Her head hurt so badly that she thought it might split open.

She was dimly aware of being carried out to the car, her mind feeling foggy as her brain struggled to make sense of this new piece of information. Weller laid her on the backseat with her head resting on Jane's lap.

When he shut the car door it almost proved too much for her. The pressure on her skull was unbearable and she didn't know how much more she could take.

When Weller pulled out of the parking garage, he ran over a speed bump. She yelped as she was jarred and her vision went dark.

**…**

When they arrived at the hospital, Weller and Jane supported her weight and guided her towards the door. Reade and Zapata met them half way across the parking lot.

"Oh my God, Patterson, what  _happened?_ "

Weller answered. "She passed out twice and she's got a migraine."

"Is she okay?"

Weller shrugged worriedly.

"Must be one hell of a headache." Reade commented.

Every word they spoke was like a hammer to the side of her head. She felt like she was in an enclosed space that was rapidly shrinking, while her head seemed to expanding with pain. It was becoming difficult to breathe.

 _This isn't normal. What's happening to me?_ She thought before losing consciousness for the third time.

**…**

When she came to, she was aware of being transferred onto a hospital bed, the cool sheets brushing lightly against her face. She could hear someone talking.

"….out of the question. We're all staying with her."

"Sir, I understand your concern, but…" Weller cut him off abruptly.

"Then hurry up and do your job. Stop worrying about us and start worrying about her. Now, figure out what's wrong!"

"But we have rules."

"I don't care. She is priority right now. Understand?"

Patterson put her hand to her temple, gasping, as the pain turned from a dull, throbbing ache back into a blinding explosion of unbearable agony.

The nurse seemed at a loss for a moment before leaving to go get her some pain relievers.

**…**

They used just enough painkillers to dull the pain to a slow ache, but not enough to allow her sleep, which they explained could be dangerous, since they didn't know what was wrong with her in the first place.

They said they needed to run some tests, but they drew so much blood that she began to wonder whether she would need another transfusion. Finally, after what seemed like hours, they finished, saying that they would be back with the results soon. That was at 9:32pm.

Four hours later, they were still there. Reade was snoring loudly in the visitor's chair. Jane and Tasha were leaning against the wall, staring at her worriedly. Weller was pacing back and forth across the small room, seeming to grow more agitated with each passing moment. Patterson observed all of this through glazed, half-closed eyes. The last of the dulled pain had slowly faded out in the last couple of hours and to say that she was drowsy would be quite an understatement. But other than that, she felt fine.  _Where were these painkillers when I got shot?_ She wondered.

She looked guiltily around the room.  _They shouldn't be here. Reade is still recovering and Jane, Weller, and Tasha have better things to do than stand around in a hospital room until 1:30 in the morning. Like sleeping._

She spoke up. "You should all just go home. This is taking forever." Weller, Jane, and Tasha looked over at her in surprise. Reade continued snoring.

"Just get some rest, Patterson."

"I'm serious. It's fine. I'm fine."

"Patterson, we're here because we're  _worried_  about you. If you were okay, you wouldn't have fainted. And we're family and we're gonna take care of you whether you like it or not. Okay?"

"Okay." She replied hesitantly after a few moments.

About ten minutes passed. She was dozing lightly when a different doctor came in. He looked slightly disconcerted.

"You shouldn't all be in here."

"Don't worry about that." Weller said as the doctor looked at him skeptically. He flashed his badge.

"She's a special agent with the FBI, who is the victim of an attempted homicide connected with an ongoing investigation. It is imperative that she receives elite protection."

The doctor looked at him mildly. "Isn't that what the two agents standing out in hall are for?"

Patterson would have laughed out of the sheer absurdity of the situation, had she not been so close to it, had Weller's words not been so true.

"Well, we got the test results. They all came back negative."

"So what's wrong with her?"

"We don't know."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"We can give you a prescription for the headaches," the doctor said, shooting a desperate look at Patterson, hoping that she would say something to stop the lunatics that were interrogating him. They didn't seem extremely happy about his lack of knowledge and he was slightly worried that the angry one might attack him. No such luck. He turned back to the Assistant Director.

"And I would suggest that she not stay alone for a few days, just in case it's something serious. If anything else happens, just bring her back in. We've already got your insurance information, so you can just let yourselves out."

**…**

From the room across the hall, a young woman dressed as a nurse watched from the shadows as the doctor quickly exited the room and made his way down the hall. She waited as the procession of FBI agents made their way down the hall. As soon as they were out of sight, she swore under her breath and reached for the burner phone strapped to her leg. She dialed quickly and pressed the phone to her ear, listening for a moment before speaking quietly.

"Tell Shepherd that the side effects have started." She listened silently for a moment.

"There's no way to do that. No, it's too late. They're already gone. She has a detail. And the other agents are with her. Yes, Remy too."

The line goes dead and the Sandstorm operative slips out into the hallway, undetected.

**…**

**Two days later….**

She came in late so that the locker room would be deserted. She knew that her team would try to make her go home and rest if they caught her, but it had been  _three days_  since Jane had taken her home from the hospital and two since she had fainted and if she stayed in her apartment for one more day, she would go crazy.

Everything,  _everything_ reminded her of him.  _Did he ever really care? Was it all just an act? Was it a ploy to get information? Just how much did I give away? This is my entire fault,_ she thought miserably.  _Why didn't I figure it out?_

She knew she was an emotional mess and wouldn't blame any of them if they  _did_  make her leave. They had all taken turns checking on her for the past two days and she hadn't exactly done anything that would convince them that she was fine. Far from it, actually.

The nightmares had continued, she'd started having panic attacks, she had burst into tears on several occasions, and at one point, collapsed from sheer exhaustion. And the grief that she had never dealt with from David's death? Well, that had come back to haunt her as well.

Luckily, they had been forced to leave her alone because there had been some sort of urgent matter that had to be dealt with. They wouldn't say what it was though. Just that they would "fill her in" later. She had assured them that she would be fine for the day, secretly grateful that she could get to the office without an argument.

Time was wasting and the leopard tattoo still wasn't solved. Her techs were working on it and she had stared at it for hours on end. She didn't have anything solid yet, but she did have a few ideas that she wanted to cross reference it with in the system. Of course, her techs could have handled that too, but she was sick of sitting around. So what if she was tired? So what if the nightmares continued? So what if she had a headache (albeit a small one that was nothing compared to the crippling intensity of the one she'd had two days earlier)?

She rounded the corner, nearly crashing into Nas.

"Nas!" she exclaimed in surprise, immediately glancing around, relived that the other woman was alone.

"Are you sure you're supposed to be here?" Nas asked coolly, not really seeming to care either way.

"Ummm… Totally, one hundred percent sure that…no. No, I'm not. Please, don't tell the others that I'm here! I can't go back to my apartment…It's just so…normal." She burst out looking desperately at the NSA woman.

Nas nodded after a moment, pursing her lips.

"They're out following a lead. Shepherd was spotted last night. Help me with something?"

"Wait, what? Where?"

Nas looked impatient, clearly believing that this is information that she should already know.

"Madison Avenue."

Patterson blanched. "That's less than a block from my apartment." She whispered.

Nas looked wholly unconcerned.

"You've got a protective detail." She pointed out, glancing at the two extremely conspicuous, suit clad FBI agents, not standing fifteen feet away.

Patterson followed her gaze, staring doubtfully at the two men, before brushing her fingers reassuringly over the cool metal of her side arm. She wasn't  _completely_ helpless, after all. Then, she realized that Nas had continued talking and had asked her a question.

"Sorry, what?"

Nas looked immensely annoyed. "Patterson, I need you to focus, okay? Good. We can't handle any more of these distractions."

_A distraction? Is that what she calls it? It's not like I_ **_chose_ ** _for any of this to happen to me._

"Come with me." Patterson obeyed, trailing after her like a useless puppy.  _Useless. That's pretty much how that conversation made me feel. Maybe I_ ** _should_** _go home._

**…**

She stood silently behind the glass, watching him. She knew that he couldn't see her, thanks to the mirrored interrogation room, but still….

Her emotions were whirling. Whirling so fast that she couldn't even identify all of them.

**…**

_Betrayal. Anger. Hurt. Confusion. Disgust. Terror._ Nas watched impassively, trying to identify the wide range of emotions as they crossed over Patterson's face while she stared at the Sandstorm operative.

"Patterson. I want you to interrogate him."

 _She looks terrified._ Nas thought mockingly, of course she said nothing, she knew that insulting people would get her nowhere.

_Compassion is everything in manipulation, after all._

"He won't talk to any of us." She explained, forcing what she hoped was an understanding, reassuring, slightly apologetic smile onto her face.

"What I'm hoping is that the shock of seeing you will shake him up and make him realize that he's not as powerful as he thinks he is."

Really, it  _was_  an ingenious plan on her part. Unfortunate that it required Patterson's cooperation, of course. Luckily, the young blonde did seem to be considering it.

**…**

Patterson walked slowly up to the sliding doors and, with a trembling hand, entered her security pin. With a  _whoosh_  the doors opened.

Blood was roaring in her ears and she started shaking. There he was, sitting handcuffed to the table, a cold, blank expression on his face. His eyes were empty. He seemed to look right through her. She felt numb.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up with a cold fire and their gazes locked. A chill went up her spine and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt. This moment would haunt her for the rest of her life.

"Hello again, Agent Patterson."

**…**

Weller barged into the screen room where Nas was with Jane and Zapata on either side of him.

"Why the hell is she in there with him?" He demanded.

Nas gave him an appraising glance. "I believe that she may be able to crack him,"

Weller looked closely at Patterson. She seemed more close to cracking herself than cracking Borden, or Thornton, or whatever his name was. She seemed to be barely holding herself together and already looked slightly traumatized.

"Get her  _out_  of there. NOW." He demanded.

"Kurt, we can't afford anymore setbacks."

"Are you calling my agent a liability? Get out of here. Now. And that's Assistant Director Weller to you." He snapped before barging into the interrogation room.

Patterson jumped like someone had shot her (and, come to think of it, someone  _had_ ). He motioned for her to follow him.

"Patterson, we need you in the lab. Now." He said, trying to sound urgent, his only goal to get her away from Borden.

**…**

Shepherd listened, smiling when she heard Kurt's voice. It was time. Tonight was the night. Tonight, they would strike.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters.

Patterson stumbled out of the interrogation room just ahead of Weller, her eyes wide with fear and dismay. She leans heavily against the opposite wall as the sliding doors  _whooshed_ closed behind them, trying desperately to calm her harsh, ragged breathing. She slides down the wall, sinking onto the floor, shaking.

Her face, which was already ghost-white, seemed to pale even more, if that was possible. Sweat clings to her forehead. In all honesty, she looks like she's about to pass out again and she appears to be lapsing into another panic attack.

She starts hyperventilating and he looks around uncomfortably. Patterson is like a sister to him, but he's not really sure how to deal with her in her current state.

 _What happened in that interrogation room?_ He wonders.

Relieved, he spots Zapata coming down the hall towards them. She hands Patterson a bottle of water and sits down beside her.

"It's all just so out of control." Patterson whispers, gasping for breath.

"I've got this." Zapata whispers to Weller and then turns back to Patterson, calmly talking her through the attack

He is relieved to see that someone is getting through to her. She already seems a little calmer and he knows she'll be fine with Zapata.

_And besides, it's time for me to go have a talk with Nas._

**…**

Finding Nas had proved to be harder than he'd originally thought possible. After he had pulled Patterson from the interrogation, she had simply vanished, retreating far into the depths of Zero Division. Finally, he had found her, sulking in an empty interrogation room.

Once he had her cornered, he ordered her into his office, where he may have  _slightly_ lost his temper… and yelled a little… or a lot…

"That is  _not_ the way we handle things!"

"Kurt, it's not exactly my fault that she cracks under pressure. She shouldn't have-"

He cuts her off. "Patterson does not crack under pressure. She has already been put under more  _pressure_ than any one person should ever have to deal with, and your actions have caused her a lot of unnecessary pain. Now, get me a tape of that interrogation and then get out of my office. And stay away from Patterson. She has enough to deal with without you piling on unnecessary stress."

She looks like she wants to argue, but then clearly thinks better of it, giving him the tape and exiting quickly.

He turns his attention to the computer screen, worried. What could Thornton have possibly said to evoke that sort of reaction from Patterson, of all people? She had been a mess when he had arrived, and, while she had every right to be, that just wasn't something that usually happened to her. But the circumstances weren't  _usual_ , so he had to see for himself.

He watches onscreen as Patterson enters the interrogation room. Thornton looks at her with a blood-chilling expression on his face. Kurt briefly wonders how none of them had ever seen through his therapeutic mask, to the cold-hearted monster that dwelled beneath.

 _"Hello again, Agent Patterson."_  He says, his voice grating, his eyes cutting. A shiver seems to run through Patterson's entire body, but other than that she seems to be holding herself together.

She stares at him coolly and proceeds with the interrogation, grilling him for the next few minutes, receiving no information. Six minutes in, he starts to threaten her.

 _"You are going to regret this."_  Weller tenses, worried about how Patterson will handle the comment.

 _"I'm not the one chained to the table."_ Patterson points out defiantly, a spark of her old self finally showing through.

_"You think that you're safe now? Just because I'm locked up doesn't mean that I can't hurt you anymore."_

_"What are you talking about?_ " She demands, clearly getting impatient.

_"Being betrayed by the person you trust the most has a way of causing deep psychological damage and emotional trauma that-"_

She cuts him off. _"Save it."_

Thornton chuckles.  _"But then, I'm not the one you really have to worry about… Tell me, did something happen on Madison Avenue last night, or have we gotten off schedule?"_

The blood drains from Patterson's face and she shrinks away from him. A few moments later, the sliding doors  _whoosh_ open and Weller sees himself walk in and escort Patterson out. Thornton looks thoroughly pleased with himself. The feed is cut.

Weller immediately starts to worry. There's no way that Thornton could have found out about Shepherd being spotted, so the sighting had to be planned. But what worries him even more is how near she had been to Patterson without any of them knowing it.

**…**

As soon as Patterson gets to her lab, she curls into her desk chair, breathing shakily, and trying desperately not to cry. Jane and Tasha are trying to get through to her, but she can't think. She's so confused.

_How did he know about Shepherd? What was she doing there?_

Just then, Nas storms in, obviously agitated. Patterson braces herself.

"Why is it, exactly, that every time I walk in here, the three of you are sitting around doing nothing?" She demands coldly. "Sandstorm isn't going to stop itself."

"Obviously." Tasha mutters sarcastically, glowering at the NSA agent.

" _Nas._   _What_  did I just tell you?" Weller growls, entering the lab.

"Well,  _I'm_  trying to get something done. We don't have time for-"

"Out."

She looks like she wants to argue, but after a moment she turns to go, shooting a pointed look at Patterson before briskly exiting the room.

Patterson straightens in her chair, turning to her computer, feeling a pang of guilt. It was true; she really hadn't done anything since she got here except get in the way.

Weller cleared his throat. "Patterson, if you want to go home one of us will-"

"No! I mean, no. I'm fine." She says, trying to pull herself together. She was determined not to be any more of a burden than she already had been.

"I'll start looking into Shepherd's appearance. There's got to be some trace left somewhere that will clue us in to what she was doing and where she went."

Weller gives her a small nod after a few moments and she feels immediate relief as she immerses herself in her work. This, at least, is something that she can control. Her life may be crazy and out of control, but she knows what she's doing now, and that gives her some comfort.

**…**

Sometime later, Weller calls her into his office.

"Did you find anything?"

"They covered their tracks, as far as traffic cams go. The only footage that I was able to find was of her walking around outside a warehouse. She made no attempt to conceal herself and even looked straight into a security camera." She shows him the footage on her tablet.

"She looks familiar. I've seen her somewhere before." Weller muttered, watching the footage again. "But that's impossible." He hands the tablet back to Patterson, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thought. He turns his attention back to her.

"And there's one more thing, she stole two large barrels, a couple of tanks of propane, and a few rolls of wire."

"What was inside the barrels?"

"Nothing, they were empty. My guess would be that she just wanted us to see that she's still around." The thought disturbed her more than she would like to admit.

Weller nodded in agreement. "Nice work, Patterson. It's good to have you back. You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, the doctors cleared me."

"I know, but you've been through a lot, and-"

She cuts him off, looking down at the floor. "He just caught me off guard. It won't happen again."

"Patterson,  _you_  don't need to apologize. You should have never been put in that position in the first place." She knows that he's talking about the disaster that her interrogation was.

"Don't worry about it, I-"

"Actually, we're all very worried about it, Patterson. Don't forget, Shepherd was less than a block away from your place last night. She's still around; we've all got to be careful."

"I know," she said, frustrated.

"Which is why," he continued "Jane is taking you home and staying with you tonight."

_Great. I already feel like a burden. I don't really want to go back to my empty apartment all alone, but I don't want Weller to keep forcing people to take care of me either._

"You are not a burden," Weller said to her as she flushed with the realization that she had blurted out her thoughts in front of him.

"And I'm not forcing her to. She volunteered. We're worried about you, Patterson, and we want to help, but you have to let us. And besides, you'll be safer with Jane, especially with Shepherd around."

She wants to protest, but she doesn't. He's right and she is immensely relieved that she won't be alone in the place that reminds her most of  _him._

**…**

Her key scrapes in the lock as the two men on her security detail tell her "We'll be right out here if you need anything, Special Agent Patterson."

She thanks them and walks inside with Jane behind her. Exhaustion crashes down on her and she briefly wonders why she had thought it would be a good idea to go to work.

Dumping her stuff on the floor, she flops down on the couch and curls into her pillow. She hasn't slept in her room since she got back; it reminds her too much and the nightmares are worse when she sleeps in there. Granted, they're still pretty terrible, but she can usually get a little bit of sleep here and there when she's not surrounded by reminders of their time together.

She shudders, getting lost in her memories. She doesn't realize that she's crying until Jane sits down beside her and pulls her into a gentle, hesitant hug.

She falls asleep that night feeling safe for the first time in a long time.

**…**

She wakes up to darkness. Jane is gone; she's alone.

 _What time is it?_ She grabs her phone to check.  _2:17 am._

The floorboards creak behind her. She jumps, and then freezes.

"Jane?" She tentatively whispers.

"Shhh." Jane answers tensely from somewhere behind her.

Patterson sits up quickly, still wearing her clothes from the day before. She turns around, using the glow of her phone to see through the darkness.

Jane is a shadow, pacing lightly along the back-side of the couch, her back straight, and her movements cat-like. She is holding her gun and looks all the part of a trained assassin.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. The power went out and your phone lines' down. Stay here, get your gun, and stay low. I'm going to check your detail."

Patterson obeyed, sliding her sidearm out from underneath her jacket where it lay on the coffee table.

Her heart pounding, she peers through the inky blackness to where she knew Jane was. The emergency lights would still be on in the hallway, so it was possible that her detail didn't even realize the power was out. She is torn from her thoughts when she heard a muffled  _thump_ , a curse, a  _bang_ , and then a light rattling sound.

_"Jane?"_

"Call Weller. Your detail has been taken out." Jane says, pushing Patterson towards the back hallway. "Call him! I'll hold them off as long as I can."

Bewildered, she wastes no time hitting the speed dial for Weller on her phone as a  _thudding_  comes from outside.

"Come on, come on. Pick  _up_ , Weller." She mutters, listening to the ring tone. He doesn't pick up though, and it rolls over to his answering machine as the door starts to emit a cracking sound.

"Weller, someone's breaking in. They just-"

The door splinters to pieces, light flooding the room as Jane drags her behind the wall. Bullets spray across the room. Patterson drops her phone and draws her weapon, she and Jane firing at the same time. Two intruders fall to the floor, dead.

Suddenly, Patterson finds herself pressed against the wall with a hand around her throat and the muzzle of a pistol pushed into her head.

 _How-_  Patterson doesn't have the time to complete the thought.

"I said to take them alive!" A furious voice yelled, sounding close to her ear.  _Shepherd._

She seems distracted though, obviously more concerned about her remaining operatives' inability to subdue Jane than she is about Patterson, so she takes the opportunity given to her, lashing out and catching her off guard. However, Shepherd is quick to dodge her, twisting away like a snake and striking back twice as hard, slamming Patterson back against the wall with so much force it made her teeth rattle.

Patterson falls to the floor, stunned, feeling blood soak her shirt. She looks down in shock. She hadn't realized that she'd been shot, but it was just a small graze across her side. And, at the moment, with adrenaline coursing through her system, she couldn't feel it. She couldn't afford to.

Forcing herself to her feet, she returns to her attention to finding Shepherd, who is focusing on Jane, still fighting three assailants.

She's out of bullets and no longer has her gun. Jane appears to be in a similar fix, but is still wiping the floor with her attackers, from the sound of it.

A loud  _thud,_ followed by a groan of pain indicated that another of the Sandstorm operatives had been effectively dealt with.

_Take Shepherd out and it'll be over in minutes._

Patterson hears a gun cock from her left. The lights flood back on and she sees Shepherd pointing a tranq gun at Jane. Wasting no time, she slams herself into the gun-wielding terrorist, feeling a dazzling flash of pain sear across her right side.

The dart clatters to the floor, harmless. Shepherd whirls around, shock evident on her face.

She throws out a fist, snaking her arm around Patterson's throat and pulling her into a headlock.

Patterson twists in her grip, kicking out, striking the back of Shepherd's knee with her foot. Shepherd starts to go down, tightening her grip on Patterson, so that as they fall, Patterson's face is slammed hard into a picture frame hanging on the wall.

Broken glass and the coppery tang of blood are the last things that she is aware of before the tranq dart pierces her skin, sending her into the dizzying blackness of unconsciousness.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters.

Shepherd stood calmly, staring through the glass at her still unconscious charges. Remy looked a bit worse for wear, given the cuts and bruises decorating her face, but Agent Patterson looked half dead. The young FBI agent's entire face was swollen, turning purplish from the bruises. A thin trickle of blood ran down her hairline, framing her beaten face. Smears of it still showed where the broken glass had been embedded. Dark red had soaked through the fabric of her shirt, staining her side crimson.

Shepherd was momentarily consumed by a flash of anger and frustration. It was bad enough that they'd had to take her away in the first place. She would have been so much more useful in the midst of the FBI with the transmitter. But, according to one of her sources, Patterson's health was already declining as result of it and it was only a matter of time before the transmitter was discovered. So, while it would have been ideal to leave her where she was useful,  _while_  she was still useful, she couldn't have people like Nigel in custody that knew the plan. But, either way you looked at it, she was clearly more useful than her disloyal daughter, and so that made it even worse that she had been injured in the first place. She'd thought that she had been perfectly clear in the fact that both of the two be subdued with tranq darts and not harmed any more than necessary. She herself had underestimated the FBI's lab rat, a mistake she would never make again, but still, for the backup plan to work, Patterson needed to be alive.

It had come to her attention that this plan may have not been the best course of action, but at this point they would just have to make it work. Obviously, the FBI wouldn't simply trade Nigel for the hostages, but her old acquaintance Kurt Weller would help with that. Not willingly, of course, but his unorthodox affections for Remy made him weak and vulnerable, as did his emotional attachment to the other members of his team. Patterson, for instance.

She turned from the window. It was time to prep her computer for the hack.

**…**

The first thing that Patterson became aware of was that of a distant, pounding headache. With a groan, she opened her eyes, feeling the throbbing ache spread down through the rest of her body. Her face stung with pain and her side was on fire. She tried to push herself up from the damp cobblestone floor, but fell back in dismay when she became aware of the cold metal handcuffs biting into her wrists, one of which felt like it might be sprained.

Her vision was hazy at best and, from the lack of response her other senses were exhibiting, she concluded that she must have been drugged.

 _Where am I?_  She wondered frantically, closing her eyes and drawing deep breaths of dark, stale air until she felt lightheaded and woozy. It was then that she remembered.

_Oh, God no. Not Shepherd. Not again. Please, no._

She scrambled to her feet, leaning against the wall for support as the handcuffs cut into her wrists. She yelped, feeling the warm blood slide down her fingers and drip to the floor. Dizziness shot through her as dark spots swirled before her eyes and she crumpled back to the ground. Faintly, she heard someone calling her name.

"Patterson?"  _Jane?_

"Jane? Is that you?" She whimpers, keeping her eyes tightly closed.

"Careful, you've been shot." Jane responds.

"It's Shepherd, right?" Jane nods as Patterson pulls up the edge of her shirt, only to find that the graze wound from the bullet has already been tightly bandaged, the bleeding stopped.  _That's weird. Why would they help me after trying to kill me? Unless-_

Her thoughts are abruptly cut off as a grating sound comes from the other side of the room. A florescent lightbulb flicks on and she is momentarily blinded. A door scrapes shut with a clang. She blinks quickly and takes in her surroundings as she grows accustomed to the light.

The floor and walls are made of cobblestone, as she had guessed. The ceiling was metal with a couple of fluorescent bulbs to provide light. Two old army cots sit in the opposite corner. A doorway in back leads to what she would assume to be a bathroom. She looks back over to where the door that had just opened is. It's made of reinforced steel. There is no way in hell that they'll be getting out that way. Beside that door is a wall of glass, an observation window not unlike the one that Borden and Roman were behind back at the FBI. This was a prison.

"Remy. Patterson. I'm sure you both know why you're here." Patterson has to force herself to look up at Shepherd and the other Sandstorm operatives at her side. It takes all she has to keep herself steady, but she manages. But why would Shepherd need  _them?_

"You're here because it's a fair trade. Nigel and Roman for the two of you. Now, we'll just have to see who is more valuable to Agent Weller." Shepherd said, partially answering the unasked question.

"Patterson, get up. You'll be coming with us." Shepherd continues, giving her a meaningful look. She shrinks back with a fearful look at Jane, who glares at her mother and starts to object. Shepherd pushes a pistol into the side of Patterson's neck, giving her daughter an appraising glance.

"Both of you will do as I say. I don't really both of you alive, so keep quiet or you'll be the only one left I have to deal with." Jane slumps obediently to the floor.

The other Sandstorm operative takes hold of her sleeve and yanks her to her feet, dragging her into the next room.

Shepherd follows, indicating a desk with a laptop on it.

"Sit there." She does as she's told, glancing fearfully toward the observation window.

Shepherd says something to the two operatives in the room, never once moving the gun from where it's trained on Patterson's head. They nod and walk back into the room where Jane is, the door clanging shut behind them. Shepherd forces Patterson up and over to the window, pushing the gun into her temple even harder. Jane, who is getting the same treatment from the two guards, locks eyes with Patterson. They both know without explanation. The meaning is clear. If one of them disobeys orders or tries to escape, the other dies immediately.

"Do you understand?" Shepherd asks without explaining. Patterson gulps, then nods.

"Good. I want you to do something for me now." Patterson is led back to the desk and freed from the handcuffs.

"Hack the FBI server. And  _don't_  try anything; this laptop is unregistered and untraceable. Do it so the footage from this camera is played directly to every monitor in your lab and every other FBI computer is disabled."

"But I can't just… Those computers are completely secure! I can't hack it remotely!" She stammers, staring at her in fake disbelief.

Shepherd gazes at her calmly. "Don't give me that, Patterson, because we both know that  _you_  can. And if you don't do it, I'll get someone else to that will find these FBI secrets a lot more interesting than I will. Not to mention, you'll be sharing a cell with Remy's mutilated corpse."

Any other argument that she would have had died on her tongue at that moment and she turned to the laptop without complaint.

Shepherd nodded in satisfaction. Most wouldn't be able to complete the task, but Patterson was a different story. And this was an excellent way to prove her point. Not to mention, Patterson would be finished long before her tech person could arrive.

_This just might work out after all._

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters.

Roman stood alone in his cell. He hated this feeling of helplessness. He hated being afraid of himself, and not knowing what he was capable of.

Jane was all he had left now. She was the only one that understood how he felt.

He hoped that she would get there soon. This cage was awful. He wanted  _out._

It was then that someone appeared at the door. Not Jane, but someone else.  _Weller_ , he remembered, feeling a flash of disappointment. Jane had explained that he was the…  _Assistant Director of the FBI_. That didn't mean anything to him, of course, but he did know that Weller had saved him from being taken to some awful place that Jane called a  _black site_  by some people called  _the CIA._

And then, he noticed Weller's expression.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

**…**

**Two hours before**

Patterson, who was very well aware of the gun that Shepherd had pressed into the back of her head, ignored the throbbing in her wrist and continued typing as quickly as she could. She knew that she should probably at least feel  _some_  guilt towards what she was doing, but she felt none. It was over any way. All she was doing was buying them some time. The FBI wouldn't,  _couldn't_  release those prisoners.

She and Jane were going to die here.

**…**

It was getting pretty late in the day, almost eleven thirty, and with no sign of Jane  _or_  Patterson, Weller was beginning to worry.

 _Maybe I should just leave them alone. Patterson actually might be getting some sleep for once, since her kidnapping._ He thought, but at eleven forty-five, he went to the locker room to find his phone. Surely Jane would have called by now if everything was alright? Something  _had_  to be wrong.

_One missed call, Patterson, 2:21 am_

He called his voicemail, dreading what he was about to hear.

_"Weller, someone's breaking in, they just-" Patterson's terrified voice is cut off as a cracking thud sounds from somewhere in the background. Gunshots echo into the phone as it falls, clattering to the floor and a furious voice, one that Weller recognizes from the recording as Shepherd, snaps "I told you to take them alive!" The phone goes dead._

Weller stands in shock for a moment, horrified, with the phone pressed against his ear, before immediately dialing Patterson's number. It goes straight to voice mail. So does Jane's.

He texts Reade and Zapata to meet him in the lab immediately, then rushes in the direction of the elevator. They've got to get over there. Jane and Patterson could be dead. Or Shepherd might have them. He isn't sure which thought disturbs him more.

When he enters the lab, he stops in confusion. All of the computer monitors are dark and all of Patterson's lab techs are clustered in a group over to the side, muttering amongst themselves.

He moves quickly over to Reade and Zapata, demanding "What's going on?"

"Somebody's hacking us again, like the time that Rich was in your apartment-"

"We don't have time for this. Patterson and Jane have been taken-"

All of the sudden, the computer monitors flash on, the blank screens replaced by live video footage. Sitting tied to a chair was Patterson and standing behind her was a familiar middle aged woman. It took Weller a moment to place her, but when he did he almost wished he hadn't.

"Hello, Kurt."

It was Major General Ellen Briggs, whom he had met long ago, back in his military school days. The same Major General Ellen Briggs who, over a decade ago, had encouraged him to embrace his anger. The same Major General Ellen Briggs who, at some point, must have turned into Shepherd. The same Shepherd who had kidnapped and tortured Patterson for information nearly to the point of killing her. The same Shepherd who had broken into Patterson's apartment early this morning.

The same Shepherd who had now taken both Jane and Patterson.

**…**

Nas strode quickly down the hall towards the lab, deep in thought.

_Shepherd must be stopped, but from now on I have to tread carefully. If the FBI ever discovers my involvement, I'll be destroyed. Of course, I only did what was necessary to become a top NSA operative. Others have done far worse to climb the ladder. And Shepherd had people in place to give me exactly what I wanted. The information was a small price to pay for the success. A fair exchange-_

Her train of thought breaks off as she enters the lab and she nearly faints from shock.

"Nas Kamal, I wouldn't have expected to see you here. Have you met Kurt yet? Oh, good. Kurt, Nas is another of my assets. Just like you."

Weller turns to her, his face a mask of fury. She glances between him and the computer monitor where Shepherd's face is displayed.

_Oh, hell._

**…**

Pellington stared at the screen in open-mouthed shock as Major General Ellen Briggs, or Shepherd now, he supposed, repeated her demand. She said that she wanted to make an exchange. Agent Patterson and Jane Doe for Nigel Thornton and Roman. That would never happen. Roman would remain in a maximum security holding cell and Thornton was going to be shipped off to the CIA by the end of the week. He wasn't in the habit of cooperating with terrorists. It really was too bad about Agent Patterson and Ms. Doe, though.

He stepped calmly over to one of the computers, peering aggressively into the web cam and icily repeated "The FBI  _does not_  negotiate with terrorists."

"Is that all you're going to say?" Shepherd asked, seeming mildly amused, but not at all surprised.

She continued. "Sam, this is not a negotiation. Either you release Thornton and Roman into my custody or Remy and Patterson will never see the light of day again. I will make their deaths slow and excruciatingly painful." There were loud protests from Agents Reade and Zapata, as well as from Assistant Director Weller when she said this, protests that only grew louder and more frantic as she drew an exceptionally sharp knife over Agent Patterson's head and gently ran the blade across her throat to prove her point. A thin line of blood trailed after it. Patterson didn't react, just stared blankly into the camera with dull eyes.

"I realize that my requests are not going to be easily met. But in forty-eight hours, be ready with your answer. Think hard about this. You can keep two prisoners who will never be of any use to you, or you can trade them for your agent and your asset. Forty-eight hours. Your choice."

The computer screen went dark. A few moments later, the FBI database was back up and running as if nothing had happened.

Pellington turned from the room. He had to think about this.

One thing he did not have to think about however, was Nas Kamal. She was done. Her supervisor would be hearing about this. And the task force between the FBI and the NSA? That was definitely over.

**…**

"Get up." Shepherd snapped at Patterson, taking hold of her upper arm and roughly leading her over to the door. She opened it and shoved Patterson in ahead of her.

"Uncuff her." She ordered the guards, gesturing at Remy. They did so and she dismissed them.

The moment the door was closed, she released a wide-eyed Patterson, who scrambled back over to Remy and collapsed to the floor. Shepherd smirked when her daughter stepped in front of the young FBI agent, as if to shield her from any threat that she posed.

_You're welcome to try, Remy. But neither of you are getting out of this unscathed._

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters

This - to Weller - was one of the worst things that could have happened. He was comfortable in the lead. He liked knowing where he stood. He was the type who felt calmer when he knew where his people were, knew that they were safe. And if that made him a control freak, then so be it. That was fine. Those exact traits were what made him good at his job. he was a better leader for it. But now? He was completely in the dark. Two of his people, his friends, his family, were gone. Patterson was gone.  _Jane_  was gone. And Shepherd was in complete control. She alone held the cards. The rest of them would just have to play along. After all, there wasn't anything else that he could do.

That in mind, he was pretty much living one of his worst nightmares. The initial shock and horror hadn't really worn off yet, but he still had had no intentions of allowing that to slow him down. He had a feeling that the abductions and demands were just a distraction concealing something huge – and that Shepherd had a different plan entirely. She was highly intelligent and was obviously very well aware of the fact that they couldn't just release prisoners. But, until Shepherd revealed her actual intentions, they would all continue to remain pawns in her game.

Something had to change. Soon. But, until then, this would have to be treated as any other high priority case. And that meant going to the scene of the crime to question witnesses and locate evidence.

However, when they arrived on scene to find the air thick with smoke and the side of the building blackened, they knew that there would be no leads found there. It was too late. Shepherd had covered her tracks thoroughly and was long gone. With matching groans of frustration, hopelessness, and concern, they made their way over to the fire chief.

"It was arson." He reported to them unnecessarily after seeing their badges.

"Were there any witnesses?" Zapata asked.

"Several." He replied. "Most of them claim that they heard multiple gunshots go off minutes before the fire started. The cops got here a little before we did, but there was nothing that they could do about that until we got the fire out."

"Any casualties?" Reade asked.

"A few injuries. But mostly, the tenants are alright. It could've been a lot worse. Something strange did happen though."

Weller looked at him expectantly. He continues. "The woman occupying the unit where the fire started appears to be missing. We've got the NYPD checking into it. They haven't called back yet. Are you looking for her?"

The NYPD was probably too busy laughing at the fact that they'd been told to look into a federal agent as a suspect to call back with the report.

"Yeah, we're looking for her."

As the other man's expression turned to downright suspicion, Weller hurriedly continued with "She's one of our best agents. She was abducted early this morning, along with one of our consultants." Better to keep the explanations as short as possible, he thought.

"How was the fire started?"

"It was started in a barrel. Probably to contain it until the perpetrators could get away. It spread a good bit and hit some propane tanks that had been placed throughout the rest of the apartment, probably to make it accelerate faster. That led to several explosions, but luckily by that time the building was pretty much evacuated."

Of course. Shepherd would have made sure that she had plenty of time to get away before complete chaos began. But that didn't nearly explain everything...

...

"You provided classified, confidential Intel for a  _terrorist_  organization?"

"No. I see where you get the idea, but the whole exchange happened far before Sandstorm ever surfaced. I only recently discovered Shepherd's involvement – and it seemed harmless at the time."

"Harmless?  _Harmless?_ Do you have any idea of how many agents are  _dead_? You call  _that_   _harmless?_ "

"How was I supposed to know all of that was going to happen? At the time, I had merely needed to get to the top. And Shepherd – Major General Ellen Briggs at the time – needed someone with access. I was young and foolish. She approached me with information on some corrupted individuals within the NSA. Once she brought it to light, it was only a matter of time before I was promoted. I was in the correct place and had access to the particular case files and software Shepherd needed. I provided her with a few secure logins and she did the rest."

"What exactly, Ms. Kamal, did she  _do_?" Pellington asked, his voice icy.

"I have no idea; I never spoke to her again after I learned of Sandstorm, though I hoped for a while that she would make contact. But-"

"Thank you, that's all I want to know. I'm calling your supervisor and AUSA Weitz. They can take on this matter from here."

"But-"

"That will be all, Ms. Kamal. The FBI thanks you for your assistance. Dismissed."

...

"You gotta talk to Pellington." Reade stated to Weller as they left the scene.

"I know-"

Weller's growled response was drowned out as Tasha snapped indignantly "Borden and Roman are  _terrorists_. He will  _never_  release them. Do you really not realise that? Or are you two dumbasses really too stupid to realize that he's too by-the-book to accept anything  _but_  the  _rules_?"

Neither Reade nor Weller attempted to answer her. They knew it was best to just stand back and let her vent when she got like this. Either that or get scalded by her scathing comments.

Finally, Weller just said "All we can do is try and hope that things work out in the end. They usually do."

"Yeah? Well, what happens when they  _don't_? What about that? We're not going to keep coming out on top if we keep doing what we've been doing. Sooner or later,  _something_  will change. And it won't end well for us."

She had a point. If one keeps dancing through the flames, eventually said one will get burned.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters

"Shepherd gave us forty eight hours. That time runs out  _tomorrow_. And I am  _not_ abandoning my team," Weller said with a clenched jaw, the tick in his cheek prominent.

"You don't have a choice, Kurt," Pellington said as he stood from his desk.

"You're going to send him to the CIA, knowing that it means the deaths of two FBI agents?" Weller asked accusingly, fixing his boss with an icy glare.

"Technically, Miss Doe is not FBI. She's the reason we're in this mess to start with. And Agent Patterson knew what she signed up for."

" _Jane_  didn't cause any of this. She was manipulated. Sandstorm played her. Sandstorm played  _all_ of us. Shepherd is the problem here, not Jane. Jane may only be an asset, but she deserves better than this. And whose fault this is isn't the issue here. The  _issue_  is the fact that we aren't actively trying to find my people."

"I'm not sure what you want me to do here, Assistant Director. The CIA prisoner transport vehicle will be here in the morning. They'll crack him in a day or two."

"That won't be soon enough. Why not let me and  _what's left of my team_  take him and Roman out and set a trap? We might be able to draw Shepherd out."

Pellington considered it for a moment before shaking his head with shallow regret. "I can't authorize that. Shepherd is far too resourceful. Roman killed four people in that diner right before you captured him. And Nigel Thornton appears to be completely loyal to Shepherd. We can't risk him warning Sandstorm or escaping."

Weller stared at the wall, contemplating what this could mean for his team. He knew that Pellington was right, at least about Thornton, but he still thought they should be doing more than they had.

"Weller," Pellington asked, catching his attention, "you are aware that you can't always save everyone, aren't you?"

Kurt rose from his seat, his jaw set, and walked over to the door before turning to face Pellington.

"Watch me."

…

Tasha tapped her foot impatiently, scowling towards Pellington's office. Weller was wasting time. Time that they didn't have, time that they couldn't afford to lose.

_ We should be out there, in the field, doing…  _ **_ something _ ** _. _

She sighed. Maybe Weller had a point. There really wasn't anything else that they  _could_  do.

_ Shepherd's always ten steps ahead of us. She always seems to know exactly what we're planning to do. We play right into her hands, every time. Maybe we have another mole. Maybe someone else- _

"What did he say?" Reade asked, resigned.

"What do you think he said?" Weller growled, approaching their desks.

"Let me guess. He said that it was ' _unfortunate'_ and that we need to ' _figure out something else_ '" she put in.

Weller nodded somberly, confirming her fears.

"Borden – or whatever his name is, will be placed into CIA custody tomorrow." The fact that the forty-eight hours that they had to save Jane and Patterson would be up by then went without saying.

"So, what are we going to do? Sit here and wait for their executions?" Tasha demanded, her voice breaking.

" _No_. I have an idea. It might be a long shot, but it's all we have."

"What are you thinking?" Reade asked.

"Remember that little cabin at the nature preserve where Borden took Patterson after he shot her? Shepherd was there at some point. She didn't just disappear into thin air. She went somewhere and I don't think she would have risked being caught on traffic cams."

"So… you're saying that Shepherd was still in the Preserve when we arrested Borden?" Reade asked skeptically.

"I'm saying it's possible. And it isn't much to go on, but it's all we've got."

Reade still looked unconvinced, but Zapata was on board with any idea that involved doing something besides pointlessly arguing with Pellington.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go."

…

_ 30 minutes later, Ward Acres Nature Preserve _

By the time they arrive at the cabin, a thin drizzle is falling steadily. Dense, black clouds line the horizon. The tree branches lie ominously still.

_ The calm before the storm,  _ Weller decides, as a slight rumble of thunder echoes in the small clearing.

He gets out and slams the car door. His boots crunch loudly against the gravel as he walks around the SUV to meet Reade and Zapata.

"Split up and check the woods for anything out of the ordinary. It looks like a thunderstorm is on the way, so move quickly. We'll regroup to clear the cabin in about twenty minutes."

As they search, the rain steadily worsens. The crashes of thunder come more frequently and lightening has begun to crack across the sky in jagged bursts.

The rain started to pelt down in sheets. With the wind howling in their ears, communication became difficult, if not impossible.

_ "Fall back to the cabin!"  _ Weller yelled, fighting to be heard over the growing storm.

_ "Copy!" _

_ "On my way!" _

They all pause the moment they enter the cabin, Patterson's account of what had happened the only thing any of them are able to think of. Weller is the first one to move for the light switch; if they want their team back, they need to find a lead.

At first glance, nothing seems out of the ordinary. It's not until Weller moves deeper into the shadows that he notices something.

A faint trail of footprints leads through the thick layer of dust covering the floor. He pulls out a flashlight and follows it, careful not to disturb the possible evidence. The trail stops suddenly in front of the adjacent wall.

"I've got something over here," Weller called out. Reade and Zapata hurried over.

"Look at the footprints," Weller continued, "and listen."

He stepped back a few paces and hit his fist against the wall. A sharp, solid  _crack_  sounds from the wood paneling. He continues along the wall, slowly.

_ Crack. _

_ Crack. _

_ Crack. _

_ Thunk.  _ The hollow noise echoes back from somewhere deep beyond the paneling.

Weller shares a look with his team. "Hear that? Something's behind this wall," he says with certainty.

"Look at the floor," Zapata breathed. "Scrape marks. Quick, help me push this in."

They all lean against the hollow part of the wall, scrambling back in surprise when it rotates inward.

"I can't believe that actually worked," Zapata gasped, almost laughing with relief.

Weller shines the flashlight beam into the dark void, revealing an old spiral staircase leading downward. Suddenly, there's a loud crash and they are plunged into near darkness, the flashlight being the only reason they are still able to see. The lightening had knocked the power out.

Zapata breaks the brief silence. "Okay, I'm just gonna say it. This is like a scene from a low-budget horror movie."

Reade and Weller stare at her for a moment. "What? Are we going down or not?"

She pulls out her own flashlight and starts down the stairs. Weller and Reade glance at each other warily and then back to the staircase. Neither of them notices the figure slinking along the wall behind them. The figure slowly pulls the trigger of the tranquilizer gun, once, twice.

Feeling the tranq darts pierce their skin, the two agents try to call out a warning, but they're too late.

"Would you two hurry up?" Zapata snapped from somewhere below, muttering  _"Wimps,"_  under her breath.

She'd halfway expected Reade to call out some objection to the statement, but instead there's nothing but two loud  _thumps._

"Reade? Weller? Where-" Her question is cut short as a gloved hand is placed over her mouth. A needle is plunged into her neck before she can retaliate. She crumples to the floor as the first figure starts down the stairs.

"What do we do now?"

"Get them out of here. Shepherd needs them out of the way for a few hours. Take their phones, but leave them this one. She'll want to talk to them in the morning."

…

Shepherd glances up as her burner phone begins to vibrate. After checking the caller ID, she accepts the call.

"Shepherd." She pauses for a few moments after answering, smiling as she listens to the person on the other end.

"So the transfer is tomorrow? Excellent. Proceed as planned."


End file.
